Losers Club fanfics

BillxRichie

     "And in the end we're all just human... drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness." — F. Scott Fitzgerald

     I knocked on Richie's door, regretting every word I had said to him. There was no answer, only a loud thud from the second level of his house.
     I grew worried, what if something was wrong. Breathing shallowly, I tried the door; it was open. I stepped into the threshold, glancing around. The house hadn't changed much, maybe a little dustier and colder.
     "'Chee?" I called out from the bottom of the stairs.
     There was no answer. I bit my lip; I should just go. But I couldn't; I had to make sure Richie was ok.
     "R-Rich?"
     Still no answer, and I began to make my way up the stairs to his bedroom.
     I stood right in front of his closed bedroom door, stopping to glance over all the pictures he had painted. I was shocked to see my face, surrounded by hearts. I blushed, but quickly got over it. I knocked on his door.
     "Chee?" I called out quietly.
     I was met with the sound of harsh, jagged breathing.
     I flung open the door and ran into his room. I gasped and felt tears flood my eyes. Richie was lying there, eyes half closed and blood running down his wrists from long, deep cuts.
     "Oh g-god R-Richie, are you okay?" I cried out, kneeling down at his side.
     His eyes focused on me. "Bill," he wheezily breathed, coughing slightly. "I'm so sorry."
     "No," I sobbed. "Don't be s-sorry, it's all m-my fault."
     He shook his head slowly, his eyes unfocusing before coming back. "N-no. I lied. I'm g-gay." His eyes filled with tears.
     "Chee, I d-don't care, ok? I d-don't care who y-you love, just s-stay with me, ok?"
     "Bill?"
    "Y-Yeah?"
     "I love you," he breathed, before his eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped forward heavily.
     I jumped up, running down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Richie's landline was. I quickly punched in 911.
     "Help, please, my friend is dying!"

     I sat in the stuffy hospital room, watching apprehensively as Richie's heart monitor moved up and down slowly.
     It was well past midnight, and the doctors and nurses both tried to get me to leave and go home, but I refused. This was my fault and I knew it. I owed it to Richie to stay; what he wanted me to do after he woke up was up to him.
     I looked him over; he was pale, causing his freckles to really pop over his face, but he was also skinny. Skinnier than he'd been when we were still friends.
     Then my eyes landed on his wrists. They were wrapped tightly with gauze and bandages, so he wouldn't bleed out. It was my fault he'd done this to himself. I'd accused him of not only being gay, but also a horrible friend. But in reality, I was the horrible friend.
     I took his hand in both of mine, squeezing it gently. "Chee, I'm s-so s-sorry," I sniffled, pressing my lips to his hand.
     I sat there for another hour, holding Richie's hand, until he started to stir.
     I began to pull away, but his long, pale fingers wrapped around my wrist.
     "Please don't go, Bill." His voice was quiet and rough, breaking in the middle of his words.
     "I w-won't Chee, I'll s-stay right here, I promise."
     Finally, his eyes blinked open, and he smiled gently at me. "Hi Bill."
     I smiled back, and began to cry. "H-hey Chee."
     He looked up at me, shocked. "What's-What's wrong Bill?"
     I shook my head, wiping my eyes. "It's-it's my f-fault. I'm s-so s-sorry, I s-shouldn't have s-said what I did." I broke down into sobs, waiting for Richie's harsh words telling me to leave.
     Instead, I felt his fingers at my wrist, tugging me towards him. "Bill, it's not your fault," he said, but I knew he was lying. Still, I allowed him to tug me over on the bed with him.
     I sat on the bed, looking down at Richie, who had leaned back into the white pillows beneath him.
     "I was a d-dick, Chee, how can you forgive me for that?" I asked, still crying.
     "Because," he paused to take a breath. "Because I love you Bill. And I want you in my life any way that's possible. If I forgive you, may-maybe you can stay." He looked down, a light blush across his cheeks.
     "I love you t-too. And I won't l-leave until you make me," I told him.
     I was surprised when he wrapped me up in a tight hug. "Well, it looks like you're not going anywhere for awhile."
     I giggled at his words, before pressing my lips to his forehead. "Go to sleep, we'll talk more in the morning."
     "M'kay, g'night Bill."
     "Night, Chee."
     With that said, we both snuggled into the top small hospital bed, and slept.